The MacGregor

by Jenny Brigalow

  When he raced into the yard he was primed for a confrontation. But all seemed peaceful. Megan stood alone at the far end, looking down into the valley. He joined her. ‘Well?’

  She shook her head. ‘They’ve gone.’

  Sean looked around but everything seemed in order. But he was uneasy. ‘Well, I guess there’s no harm done.’

  Megan did not reply but walked through the gate to the front of the house where she’d parked her bike. She walked around it carefully and bent down and sniffed. She ran a finger down the wet petrol tank and tasted the water.

  Sean was fascinated. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Someone’s been touching my bike.’

  Sean was impressed. ‘You can tell?’

  She looked at him. ‘I could smell a Campbell six feet under.’

  A shiver ran down his spine. It was just stupid superstition but her words scared him. It was as if death had reached out with a bony finger and touched his life.

  Chapter 76

  Megan looked at Sean and was shocked by the anguished expression on his face. ‘Sean, what’s wrong?’

  But he smiled. ‘Nothing. I’m getting wet.’

  It was true. He only had on a shirt and jeans and runners. But still, she sensed he was upset. Mind you, after what had gone down it was hardly unexpected. The Campbells had decimated his business. His life.

  She took his hand and led him up to the house. And her mind was made up. This was one round the Campbells were not going to win. The idea that had been simmering on the back burner of her brain burst into flame. Sean needed a horse. And Megan would get him one…best not mention it. He was bound to get all moral on her again. Besides, it’d be a lovely surprise. Cheer him up.

  ‘Megan.’

  She turned to look at him, alerted to the odd tone of his voice.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You promise you won’t go and find Callum or Ginny?’

  She nodded. ‘I promise.’ And she meant it. It was lucky that her little scheme had nothing to do with them.

  He seemed to relax then and they hurried to get inside. Sean stepped back at the garden gate to let Megan go in first. She pushed the wooden gate open and stepped through. And stopped. Sean bumped into her.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said.

  Megan recovered and moved on, aware of him close behind. And she waited. When he gasped softly she smiled. Sean had seen it too.

  ‘Oh my god!’ he said, his voice hoarse with strain.

  Megan looked at his face, alight with excitement. And why wouldn’t it be? He raced forward, trampling the herb garden like a deranged bull. And in the middle of the garden bed he stopped and stared.

  Megan came close and watched on. Sean reached out with a trembling hand towards the oak staff that stood almost to his shoulder. It was smooth and glossy in the rain. Small oak leaves curled at its head like a green leafy wig. His fingers stopped just short and he turned and looked at her. ‘Oh my god.’

  And then his fingers curled around the shaft. He let out a long, throaty moan and then grasped it with the other hand. Megan took an involuntary step back as he took in a deep shuddering gasp of air and spoke. His words rang out like thunder and the wind stilled and the rain stopped. It was as if the earth itself were listening.

  The words flowed like poetry in motion. And she could not understand all of the words he spoke but she understood their power.

  The sky darkened and thunder rumbled beyond the mountain and lightning cracked upon the mountaintop. And a great dark cloud poured over the valley. And the ravens flew overhead and welcomed their master back with raucous voice.

  And Megan knew that her grandad was right. The Merlin was back. Megan MacGregor lifted her head and the sad song of her kind soared up with his tongue. And she knew that she had chosen wisely.

  Chapter 77

  Sean closed his eyes and opened his mind to the new sensation. It was like nothing on this earth. It was mind-blowing. Like his brain was being rewired. The oak staff in his hands seemed to weld itself to his skin. And it was as if its sap was running through his bloodstream.

  His head was an overripe peach about to burst.

  Then his eyes opened as a searing pain burned through his skull. His lips fell silent and with one almighty effort he pulled the staff free from the earth.

  And his mind cleared. For a long time he just stood, his chest heaving like bellows. Sweat mixed with the sweet rain and ran in rivulets down his neck and back. His legs trembled with shock and the staff in his hand vibrated softly in his hands. Earth eased off the oak staff, slipped down the roots and plopped softly onto the earth. The rain eased and the thunder dulled. The ravens flew away.

  ‘Sean.’

  He blinked.

  ‘Sean.’

  The staff slipped through his fingers until the base hit the ground. Megan swam into his vision. ‘Megan.’

  ‘Are you all right?’

  He nodded. ‘I think so.’

  ‘Let’s go inside.’

  ‘Yes.’ But he found he couldn’t move. He just wanted to sink to the ground where he stood, and sleep.

  Megan watched him for a moment and then came close. She put out a hand tentatively and touched his wrist. Her hair was plastered to her head and she shivered.

  ‘You’re wet.’

  She smiled. ‘Very astute, great wizard. Well done.’

  And then he shivered. His muscles unlocked and he took a step forward. He cried out and she was there at his side. Together they staggered inside and Megan pushed him into an armchair by the fire. She tried to take the staff from him but he held onto it, suddenly afraid, although he didn’t know why.

  ‘Sean, let it go. I’ll lay it at your feet where you can see it. But you’ve got to get dry.’

  He nodded. But she had to pry his hands away one finger at a time. Good to her word, she placed it at his feet. She tugged at his arms. ‘Come on, up the stairs. You need a bath.’

  A bath. Suddenly he relaxed. A bath was just what he needed. He grinned. ‘Will you wash my back?’

  She smiled. ‘If you insist.’

  ‘I do.’

  It took a couple of minutes but Megan hauled him upright. And for the first time he realised that she was phenomenally strong for her size. He bent down to pick up the staff and nearly fell over.

  ‘I’ll bring it,’ she said.

  But Sean couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else touching it. Even Megan. Which was crazy. ‘Give it to me. Please.’

  She stooped, picked it up and handed it to him.

  ‘Thanks.’

  With Megan propelling him from behind he managed to totter up the stairs and into the bathroom. He collapsed on the loo, his head swimming, his limbs like putty.

  Helpless as a pup he watched Megan run the bath. Then she undressed him and helped him in. It felt like climbing Ben Nevis. Once in, he slid down into the hot water. Without needing to be asked Megan dropped the oak shaft into the water. It floated and he watched in fascination as the roots wiggled and flexed as the soil washed away.

  Megan bent over to look. ‘That’s seriously weird.’

  He turned his head to look at Megan. ‘I know where it is.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The feet of the foot.’

  Megan’s eyes glowed. ‘So?’

  ‘It’s the circle. The stone circle near Dunadd.’

  Megan’s eyes widened. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I had a vision. Much is known to me now.’

  Megan nodded. She knew it was the truth.

  Sean touched the staff. The leaves bubbled beneath the water and he lifted its head free. Tiny new buds of leaf had sprung up.

  Megan shook her head. ‘Man, that is weird.’

  He put out a hand and touched her. She was freezing. ‘Get in, before the water gets cold.’

  And she did.

  Chapter 78

  Half an hour later they sat in the kitchen eating tinned soup and sipping strong coffee. Megan stretched l
anguorously, still in the hazy aftermath of their lovemaking. She felt his eyes on her and met his gaze. His blue eyes washed over her tenderly and her heart squeezed with happiness. She wished they could sit there and hold the moment forever.

  ‘Can you do spells then?’ she said. If she were honest, curiosity was nearly killing her.

  She watched his bare foot reach out and touch the staff softly. And then he picked up his coffee and took a sip. ‘I should turn you into a frog.’

  ‘Can you?’

  He laughed. ‘No.’

  ‘So what can you do?’

  ‘I don’t know. But I do know that there’s something else I must do.’

  ‘What?

  ‘Much has been revealed to me. I think that I must be wed to the land.’

  Megan was not impressed. Sean was not going to be wed to anyone other than her. He’d promised. She glared at him. ‘You, Sean Duncan, are going to be wed to moi.’

  Sean grinned. ‘I’ll marry you both.’

  She wasn’t sure about that. ‘As long as I’m the number one wife!’

  Sean nodded. ‘It’s a deal.’

  ‘So, how do you wed the land? That’s a bit creepy.’

  He shook his head. ‘No, Megan. I know now that it’s as old as the rocks on which we all stand. It’s just that it’s been forgotten. Except by the few.’ He paused and he seemed to ponder the issue. ‘We know Nancy and Lydia have some knowledge. But, Megan, I think your grandfather may know more.’

  Megan knew he was right. If anyone knew about the Olde ways it was Grandad. Which reminded her. ‘Sean, I have to go home for a while and help Grandad with some stuff.’ It wasn’t exactly a lie. She hurried on, keen to divert him. ‘But I’ll be back by this evening and we’ll go to the Jackal and Hide.’ She put up a hand, pre-empting his words. ‘And then we’ll take the bike back.’

  He was silent for a long moment. ‘I’ll come with you.’

  She shook her head. ‘Tonight. It’s all arranged. Grandad is expecting us tonight.’

  ‘Be careful.’

  She nodded. ‘Careful is my middle name.’

  He snorted with laughter. ‘Yes, I see that.’ He was quiet again. He tapped his fingers on the table and skewered her with his eyes. ‘Megan, you’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?’

  Megan was miffed. Stupid? Megan MacGregor? Fat chance. For a moment she contemplated telling him. But then dismissed it. That would be stupid. Sean was just too tight-laced. In this case, ignorance would definitely be bliss. ‘I’m a MacGregor, Sean. Stupid isn’t even a word in our vocabulary.’

  His eyes narrowed and she braced herself for a battle of wits. But then they both started and leapt up from their chairs like synchronised swimmers. Megan dashed for the doorway and they wedged together like sardines in a tin. They popped out like corks from a bottle and raced out the back gate and around to the driveway.

  Sean whistled. ‘Holy shit.’

  Which mirrored Megan’s feelings entirely as she observed the approaching cavalcade. She took Sean’s hand as the first truck slowed and ponderously turned into the driveway.

  Sean’s blue eyes were bright with emotion. ‘Hark, hark, the dogs do bark,’ she whispered.

  He squeezed her hand. ‘The beggars are coming to town.’

  Megan could clearly see the brilliant red head of Rory Wallace as he skilfully manoeuvred his truck and van off the drive and cruised down towards the stream. The travellers followed, one by one. Shiny silver trailers hauled by huge four-wheel drives, diesel trucks, and dinky caravans pulled by pied ponies. Chrome glittered and brass gleamed. Children shrieked and wheels creaked. It was an awesome sight.

  Megan grinned to herself as she forgave The Last Of The Free for all his past transgressions. He was a welcome sight. Sean was completely distracted. Which was perfect.

  Chapter 79

  Sean was in a lather to get down to meet his uninvited, but welcome, guests. Megan didn’t try to dissuade him. She was all for it, but begged off for the moment. Sean hugged and kissed her and waved her goodbye. In her rear-view mirror she could see him racing down the drive. She wondered how the two men would get on.

  But she forced Sean and Rory and everything else from her mind. As she hurtled around the familiar roads her brain went into fast forward. The plan was simple. The Campbells had ruined Sean. And so they would have to pay. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. Well, in this case, a horse for a horse.

  And Megan had no doubt in her mind which horse it would be. It would be Calix Campbell’s horse. The one wearing a rare and precious bridle. Her mother’s bridle. Her mother’s stolen bridle. The one for which she died. Megan felt a wave of ice-cold fury. It wasn’t theft. It was only taking back that which had been stolen. That which was hers by birthright. By blood.

  Then her spirits flew like a banner in a breeze. She could picture it all. With this horse Sean’s racing yard would rise up from the ashes and be reborn. His horse would be a winner unrivalled by all others. And this horse would sire a line that would be unbeatable. And the Campbells would be crushed.

  All she had to do was take it. Which shouldn’t be too hard. The Campbells were only vampyre, after all. And she was Megan MacGregor. A freak.

  She took the bike as far as she could and left it stashed in a small copse of silver birch. Swiftly she traversed the mountains, confidently following the contours of the land as surely as a sailor follows the stars.

  It was past midday when she skittered down the steep slope and into the homeland. The house was barely visible in a swirl of fog. But Megan could smell smoke, fish and Tippet. Grandad was home.

  She found him in the kitchen chopping up hunks of seal meat. Tippet sat at his feet looking hopeful. Megan’s mouth watered. ‘Is there enough for me?’

  Grandad turned and nodded. ‘I expect so.’

  Although he didn’t show it, Megan knew he was glad to see her. And for a moment her excitement dulled. Would Grandad be lonely without her? Perhaps she should put off moving in with Sean for a while. But that was a horrid thought.

  She moved to the dresser and picked up plates and set the table. Seal steaks sizzled and spat in the pan. Tippet whined anxiously and Grandad threw her a slice. Megan paused to pat the cub who licked her hand.

  Soon they sat down and ate. It was good.

  ‘So, what washes you up on this shore, Megan?’ He sounded stern but his face crinkled at the corners of his eyes like corrugated iron.

  With her mouth full she proceeded to fill Grandad in. ‘And, then, just before I left, Rory and his mob turned up,’ she finished.

  Grandad licked his knife and put it down. ‘You haven’t answered my question.’

  Megan looked at him. ‘I just came to see if you needed a hand.’

  Grandad snorted. ‘You might fool your young warlock but you don’t fool me. Out with it.’

  Megan’s mind wiggled like a catch of eels but she knew when she was caught.

  Grandad listened and packed his pipe. He lit it and took a long puff. And then he sighed. ‘I’m guessing there’s no point telling you to reconsider?’

  Megan sniffed.

  Grandad nodded. ‘That’s what I thought.’

  Megan felt deflated. She’d anticipated a battle. She watched as Grandad got up and went to his bedroom. When he returned he laid something on the table. ‘You’ll be needing this then,’ he said. ‘It’s what your mother would have wanted.’

  Megan looked at the round parcel all wrapped in blue velvet. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Better open it and see.’

  With trembling fingers she burst the twine and the velvet cloth fell apart. She sighed and tentatively touched the gleaming white bone of a skull. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘Megan, it is possible that its spirit will speak to you.’

  And Megan was stunned into silence.

  Chapter 80

  Finally she found her tongue. ‘And what will it say?’

  He puffed on his pipe though
tfully and let out a stream of blue smoke. ‘I don’t know. Your mother was the only one who could communicate with it.’

  Megan was awed. She reached out and picked up the skull and turned it slowly around, taking in the empty sockets and the jigsaw pattern of bone over its ivory surface. She half expected it to open its toothy mouth and grin. But it didn’t. ‘So,’ she said finally, ‘it may not speak to me either?’

  Grandpa shrugged. ‘It might or it might not. But it may tell you where the bridle is. Perhaps.’

  Megan was thrilled. Although undaunted at the prospect of poking around the vastness of Carrick Castle while the sleeping uglies snoozed, it would save a shitload of trouble if she knew where the bridle was.

  She put the skull down and looked at it. How did you get a skull to talk? Tricky. ‘What did Mum do? Do you know?’

  Grandad’s ears twitched. ‘She would play music on it.’

  ‘Music?’

  ‘Yes. It is like…a drum. I think.’

  A drum. OK. She could cope with that. But what sort of music should she play? And then she smiled. The Olde music, of course. She must find somewhere quiet. And a memory filled her mind. The cave. She hadn’t been there for a long time.

  She jumped up and cradled the skull against her jumper with her arm. She went round and hugged her grandad who sniffed. She scooped up Tippet and gave her a cuddle and then raced out. Without pausing she hurried down to the beach and flew around the craggy shoreline. The tide was high and in places she had to climb across the cliffs.

  The cave was tucked away at the back of a tiny inlet. Waves rolled in and crashed over the rocks. Spumes frothed up the cliff face. But up on its little ledge, the cave was dry. Its sandy floor was littered with shells and dried kelp. There were a few fish bones and the remains of Megan’s last meal there. She picked up a long leg bone. A sheep, by the look of it.

  She sat down in the entrance and put the skull down. Tentatively she tapped the top with the leg bone and it made a pleasant note. For a while she played around. Even running the bone around the teeth. And as she did so a tune popped into her mind. Not the song of the trees but a song of the sea. And as she sang, Megan drifted away. And through the melody and the insistent beat of the drum she heard another voice.